The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

"Mikhailis," she whispered, concern etched across her face. "Talk to me."

But words wouldn't come. All he could do was let out a broken exhale, bracing himself against the door to keep from collapsing. The runes on its surface glowed brighter now, matching the frenzied pulse of his heartbeat. Warmth radiated from the stone—unnatural, alive.

Rhea took a tentative step forward. "What's happening to him?"

Lira shook her head, lips pressed thin. "I don't know." She looked at Mikhailis's face, worry evident in her dark eyes. "He's been having these visions more and more often."

He heard them, but only distantly. His entire focus was locked onto the rush of images unfurling inside his head. He saw flashes of a battlefield at night, the moon obscured by swirling mist. Armed figures clashed in the distance, but the scene blurred as if he was viewing it through storm clouds.

A deep voice, layered and resonant, whispered in a tongue he couldn't quite decipher. Yet a fragment of meaning seeped into him: Guardian… Bind the old power… Then the memory twisted, leaving him reeling.

"Your Highness?" Lira repeated, shaking his shoulder. "Are you still with us?"

Mikhailis blinked, forcing his gaze to meet hers. He felt sweat beading at his temples, his breath coming in uneven gasps. He tried to speak but managed only a strained laugh.

"D-define 'with us…'" he rasped. "I think… I think I'm still me."@@novelbin@@

Rhea edged closer, peering at the runes on the door. A faint grimace crossed her lips. "This place feels wrong," she muttered under her breath. "Like something's waiting behind that door."

"I feel it too," Lira admitted. She reached out cautiously, not touching the door itself but hovering her palm near its surface. "It's warm. Almost like a heartbeat."

Mikhailis took a moment to regain his composure, inhaling steady breaths until the pounding in his skull dimmed to a dull ache. He noticed how the mist around him swirled, drawn toward the symbols on the stone, as if beckoned by an invisible force. That same force tugged at his gut, as though urging him forward.

A deep breath. A choice.

He clenched his jaw, letting determination overshadow his fear. "Move back," he warned softly, stepping in front of them. "If something goes wrong, I don't want you both caught in it."

Rhea opened her mouth to argue, but Lira touched her arm, gently shaking her head. They gave Mikhailis a few paces of space, weapons at the ready.

His heart thundered as he turned back to the massive door. Every nerve in his body screamed for caution. But the urge was irresistible—the kind of pull that made it impossible to walk away. He raised his hand and pressed it against the center of the swirling runes.

At first, nothing happened. His palm rested on cold stone. Then, gradually, the glow intensified, spreading from the point of contact in concentric rings. He felt a gentle vibration, like a low hum coursing through the rock and into his bones.

He closed his eyes, bracing himself for another onslaught of visions. His mind wavered between two planes: one foot anchored in the present—Lira and Rhea's worried breathing behind him, the catacomb's stifling darkness—and the other in some half-remembered place. Shadows of an older era washed over him, assaulting his senses with half-formed images of kings without crowns and an unearthly power sealed away.

"Return."

The word sliced through his thoughts, echoing with insistent authority. He saw a hooded figure in his mind's eye, an outstretched hand wrapped in swirling mist.

He could almost feel Lira's tension from behind, like she was poised to pull him away if he lost control. Rhea's presence felt similarly coiled, ready to defend or react at a moment's notice. Explore more stories at My Virtual Library Empire

The stone beneath his hand began to shift. Not a dramatic movement, but more like a subtle, twisting sensation, as though the door itself was adjusting to his touch. The runes pulsed in time with his heartbeat—or maybe it was the other way around.

"The Sovereign Catalyst must awaken."

That phrase repeated, weaving through his consciousness. He recalled Eldris's cryptic words in the manor, how the masked figure had implied he was key to something far bigger. Key to what? he wondered, teeth gritting. He hadn't signed up for this cosmic role—he just wanted to find a way to save Luthadel from the Mistborn Entity's chaos. But maybe this was the only path.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, trembling. Lira and Rhea's gazes burned into his back, silent but supportive. He swallowed, then pushed a little harder against the stone.

At once, the entire structure of the door rippled. The symbols, previously flickering, glowed with fierce intensity. A distant rumbling resonated through the floor, and Mikhailis heard the scrape of ancient gears, long dormant. Waves of dust rained down from the ceiling as the catacombs seemed to groan under the strain.

The door sank inward, splitting along hidden seams. A subtle rush of air escaped from beyond, cold and laden with the scent of centuries-old secrets. The runes flared so brightly that Mikhailis had to squint, but he forced himself to keep watching. Something told him he needed to see what lay beyond.

He felt a sudden surge within him, like a rising tide. It wasn't painful this time, more like he was tapping into a current of energy that flowed beneath these stones. The mist around him spun faster, a whirlwind that caressed his arms and shoulders before funneling toward the widening gap in the door.

Lira called his name, her voice edged with alarm, but he didn't look back. His attention was locked on the shifting stones. The moment the doorway opened enough to reveal the faint outline of a chamber beyond, his vision shimmered.

A swirl of images hit him like a wave:

He saw a great hall filled with robed figures chanting in unison, arcs of mist weaving around them like living ribbons. He saw a vast statue, partially broken, that resembled the same runic design carved into this door. Then the statue's eyes glowed in his mind, and he felt a force press against his heart, urging him onward.

He staggered again. Lira's voice tightened. "Mikhailis!"

But he barely heard her. A sense of recognition spiked through him—recognition and awe. This is it, he thought, though he couldn't articulate what 'it' was. Something… big. Something that might hold the key to saving Luthadel from the threat brewing above.

Rhea's footsteps approached. Her hand hovered near his shoulder, as if deciding whether to yank him back or stand by him. "Are you sure about this?" she demanded, her voice almost trembling. "We don't know what's on the other side."

Mikhailis swallowed. His chest felt tight, a tempest of fear and resolve swirling within. "I'm not sure of anything," he admitted, voice raw. "But I can't walk away now."

The last chunk of stone sank into the floor, leaving a yawning archway. The room beyond was too dark to see much detail, but the air that escaped felt colder, sharper, like an exhalation from the mouth of something that had just awakened.

He turned to glance at Lira and Rhea, seeing their faces illuminated by the dying glow of the runes. They looked worried but determined. They'd follow him, no matter what.

He took one step over the threshold, and the ground trembled under his foot as if in response. The mist tightened around him in a protective swirl. That intangible voice still whispered in the back of his mind, urging him onward.

And then, abruptly, the world shifted.